


After

by bravetosh



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Children of Earth, Episode: s03e04 Children of Earth - Day 4, M/M, kinda happy but mostly sad as hell sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-26 13:35:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18718123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bravetosh/pseuds/bravetosh
Summary: Sometimes, if enough people died together, in the same way, the same moment, they would be there with you.(why did it take jack so long to come back after dying in thames house?)





	After

Usually, there was nothing. There was darkness and perception was wrong and there was nothing.

 

Usually.

 

Sometimes, if enough people died together, in the same way, the same moment, they would be there with you. Jack didn’t know how it worked, or why, but he wasn’t going to complain. They were confused, milling around, waiting. Waiting for instructions, for anything. Eventually, they would start walking, fading from this holding pen of existence to somewhere he could never go.

 

The people around him were confused, scared, lost, but Jack couldn’t let himself care. He had to find Ianto, and quickly. He didn’t know how much time they would have. He struggled through the bodies, the people who died trapped in the building with him. Some of them called out, but no-one tried to stop him.

 

* * *

 

Ianto stood on the edge of the group, watching the mob shifting oddly in the darkness. Some of them called out to each other, asking questions and demanding answers. Others seemed detached, like they couldn’t see the people around them. Ianto didn’t move, didn’t bother scrutinising the faces; the one he wanted wouldn’t (couldn’t) be here. Fresh tears slid down the sticky tracks on his cheeks.

 

* * *

 

It was taking too long; there weren’t that many people here, but his vision was wrong and he was moving wrong and people were confused and it was _taking too long._ The crowd looped back on itself, endless and rearranging, and he pushed through with a pounding heart.

 

_I’ll come back. I always do._

Time didn’t seem to work here, but eventually, Jack spotted the right dark curls, the right waistcoat. Ianto stood on the edge of the group, folded in on himself and so alone that it hurt to see. Jack pushed through the crowd, not caring about anyone else, until he was in front of Ianto.

“Jack?” Ianto whispered, the shock plain on his face. “How–?”

Jack surged forward and kissed him. It was desperate, frantic, and Jack cradled Ianto’s head like something precious and poured all the words he should have said into Ianto’s mouth. Ianto pulled away, and Jack didn’t think, just moved forward to chase his lips and tongue and the salty tracks of his tears.

“But you can’t die,” Ianto whispered, and Jack opened his eyes to meet Ianto’s, and what he saw felt like a fist around his heart. There was hope there, just the tiniest spark; hope that Jack would stay.

“I can. I just can’t stay that way,” Jack said, tracing his fingers across the perfect curve of Ianto’s cheekbone, mapping the lines of his skin.

Ianto closed his eyes, leaned forward to rest his forehead against Jack’s.

“How long do you have?”

“I don’t know. I don’t normally have a reason to stick around.”

Ianto laughed, a tiny huff against Jack’s lips, and laced his fingers together against Jack’s neck.

“Does that mean you can refuse to leave?” Ianto asked, and it was a joke, a hopeless, miserable joke against the absolute despair that was all around them, had followed them beyond the ends of the Earth.

“I can try,” Jack whispered, tracing his thumb along the curve of Ianto’s cheek, the place where his wound had been in life. He brushed his lips across the spot, hands clutching Ianto’s waistcoat. The silk was smooth under his hands, and Jack tugged up the fabric, letting his fingers slide against the skin just above Ianto’s waistband, desperate to soak up every last bit of warmth he could.

“Will you remember this?” Ianto asked, voice just a breath, and Jack’s heart broke all over again.

“How could I ever forget you?”

“No,” Ianto smiled, just a little, tears still pouring down his face. “This. Being here.”

“Oh. Yes.”

“Good.” And Ianto kissed him, kissed him wild and passionate and wonderful, just like always. And like always, it stung, because there was always the knowledge that Ianto wouldn’t be his last kiss. This time though, Jack let that knowledge consume him, and he kissed Ianto and kissed him, clung to him like he was gravity, because this was it, this was the last.

“I love you,” Jack whispered. “God, I love you.”

“I’m sorry.” Ianto always joked about how ugly he was when he cried. Jack thought he was beautiful.

“Why?” Jack traced his fingers across Ianto’s forehead, hating the pain in the lines on his face.

“I didn’t think I’d have to leave you alone so soon.”

Jack crushed their mouths together, kissed him again, and again and again, because he could never say everything he felt; even he wouldn’t have enough time in his whole life for that.

“Don’t you dare apologise for that.”

“Just. Try and be happy? For me?” Jack had always been a little in awe of how selfless Ianto could be. How self-sacrificing.

“Yes, sir.” And Ianto smiled, properly, even through the mess of tears and despair on his face.

 

Something tugged at Jack’s insides. The people around them had vanished, taken to whatever was beyond here, the promised land of oblivion. Normally, he was forcing his way back to life, clawing through pain and fire and knives in his throat, but maybe this was how it went when he wasn’t fighting. He took Ianto’s hand.

“Go on.” Ianto said. Jack didn’t bother to ask how he knew. He kissed him slow, gentle, cataloguing the warmth of Ianto’s lips, the heat of his touch. This was a sweeter kind of pain.

“Give them hell.”

 

* * *

 

Jack opened his eyes, and breathed.


End file.
